Moving Along

Life ain't fair.  The more people, and especially peers, I speak with these days the truer that seems to be.  And life seems to be a lot less fair to other people than us but we too were kicked in the teeth recently.  It's shocking to speak with people and find out how many folks out there are going through rather serious crises from jobs to personal lives to health issues, often at a much too young an age.  This spring we had our own bout with fate and have had to make some difficult decisions.  Drum roll please....We have decided to move...again.  Okay, I'll be honest, I just threw up in my mouth.  Clearly, this was not an easy decision. This will be our third cross-country move in less than 18 months.  One might say we are quickly becoming experts in packing, unpacking and learning the interstate highway system.  Or we could just be referred to as snowbirds.  We moved back to Florida in November and look to be vacating in May.  Oh, Florida, why will you not just embrace us?!

This time we're taking a crack at Wisconsin.  I left Wisconsin in 2001 when I moved to Boston and have been goofing around mostly the east coast since then with stays in New York, Miami, Gainesville, Tampa, Cedar Rapids, Tampa again and now back where it all started Lake Geneva.  I've been afforded an opportunity to join the family business and look forward to all small business has to offer.  I'll be joining my father and brother in a business my dad started some 33 years ago.  Ironically, I think it pretty likely my parents move to Florida.  Ha!  Hey, I know where you can get a great (well actually horrible deal) on a really nice house in Tampa. C'mon, you know you want it!

At the end of the day we think it will be a nice town to raise our family in with a solid public school system, close to family and the job will afford me some much needed flexibility in our lives.  For example I'm traveling around 40 weeks a year and this job would get that down to nil. As the boys have gotten older the single parenting stress on Carrie and the absentee parenting has had a negative impact on me and the boys.  We want to spend more time together and get a lot less sleep as a family.  It's no fun getting 2-3 hours of sleep a night away from each other.  Families that stay awake all night together, stay together - period.  Sweet.  I can't wait for more evenings of fighting with the boys to get to bed and then stay in bed.  I keep making that argument to have another kid, by the way.  "Care, we're getting up every 2 hours anyway.  What's the difference?  This body isn't going to stay this way forever, you know. Grrrrrar!"

So, as we roll into another state, Quinny's third in his three years and the potential to have 3 kids born in 3 different states - we don't want to be referred to as boring! we look forward to everyone's help. We need it this time around. We bought a house in foreclosure and it needs some TLC.  We did find a place we can grow into with 5 bedrooms and it sits on nearly an acre of property.  Did someone say Stinky needs a friend?  Plus we have a swimming pool.  Oh, we've dreamed of a swimmimg pool since after arriving, ironically not wanting one, in Tampa.  Oops!  Oh, well, getting a pool (with heater!) that we can use 3-4 months out of the year is better than no pool at all.  We miss our weekends with Aunt Jo and Uncle Bobby and their kids grilling and chilling pool side and hope to have more weekends of the same once we get that swamp in our yard back up to swimming pool par.  Thanks for setting us straight on how to spend a Sunday, relatives. 

We bought 10 gallons of paint yesterday in anticipation of a lot of painting ahead.  We also bought an entire kitchen full of appliances.  One might wrongly think that would be fun.  Then you see the price tags. Yowsers.  Thank you Sears for putting everything 50% off the week before we move in.  The folks moving out were clearly a little grumpy and caused some, mostly cosmetic, damage on the way out the door. You could tell it was hard for them to do real damage and most of it is fixable, but the place has been vacant for about a year.  If you have any talent (or none at all - we'll still take ya) come on down for a painting party in the LG in about 10 days.  Plus, it's Carrie's birthday and she told me there is nothing she likes better than moving on her birthday.  That would be right in between our anniversary and mother's day.  Like I said, life ain't fair.  Wish us luck we'll be moving one week from today.

Disgusting

Happy Easter!!

That's Quinny's new favorite word and he says it with such disdain he really drives the definition home.  Last night he and his little brother had a disgusting moment together and it was disgusting (emphasize the disdain for full effect).  Say it again - disgusting.  Now say it with me, disgusting.  Okay you are almost prepared to read on.

There we were at the dinner table having a lovely meal prepared by our lovely mother/wife enjoying all the deliciousness of it and each other's company.  As dinner was winding down Q asked if it was a bath night.  We didn't think we were up to the heroics involved but our observant little fella did point out his toes were awfully dirty so we lamented and decided bath night, sure, how hard could it be.  Famous last words.  Like all decisions in life if you have to think about it, it's a no.  Just go with your initial instinct, which was no.  Oh, to have the moment back.

Everything was going swimmingly.  I stopped up there to check on them and the boys were getting along, Carrie was in full control so I swung by my office across the hall for I don't even remember what.  Next thing I know my wife is screaming and I mean screaming bloody murder.  "I NEED HELP!"  I mean a simple hey, can you come in here for a sec would've sufficed.  You would've thought I'd been missing for 10 days.  Okay, okay what do you need?  Dude, what is that?! as I point to whatever it was in the tub.  She's still screaming.  I'm searching my mind for any sort of memory that could some how do the offending object(s) in the tub justice.  Was it dinner regurgitated?  Did someone slaughter a small squirrel, like putting it in a blender?  While we were all enjoying our lovely dinner were we some how poisoned?  For the life insurance perhaps? While I'm categorically working through my noggin for what that and I really mean THAT! could be in the tub Carrie is still screaming at me to grab one of the boys. 

At that point Quentin eloquently solved the mystery by calmly stating, "Dad, Gavin pooped in my tub."  Oh, man! That is nasty!  It wasn't the good kind of poo in the tub like one might, gulp dare I say hope for? in this kind of situation.  No, it was worse than that.  I'm not sure I can come up with the proper prose to do this kiddie disaster justice so I'll leave it your imagination.  It was a first for me so hopefully it is for you too.  If not buy me a beer some time and I'll blow your mind on the grossest gag my brains out moment of child rearing to date.  And let me tell you folks we have some dandies.  Did I ever write about the car ride from Iowa where Gavin did...it's too awful to discuss but it was in the car and we were all in the car with him and we were a long, long way from home.

After we, the parents, the poor poor parents, the ones responsible for having to figure out what to do next- stared, marveled and unfortunately contemplated how one could clean up (gas masks, full radiation gear?) whatever this disaster could be affectionately labeled as we came to the realization that the boys never even got soaped up.  At that point the voice of reason overcame us and we decided bath time for Tuesday was officially closed.  See I went back to our original instinct.  Oh, those instincts. Don't ever fight the instinct.  You wish you were us don't you?  

New Bed

Mr. Entitlement with G'pa on Siesta Key (stealing G'ma's chair)

Ya, the new bed.  Well, that didn't work out too well.  After school we talked about it on the way home and Q was all excited to help tear down his infant bed and get the new bed.  Then there was some indecision.  There has been a lot of moving lately and although, taking down the bed isn't all that difficult it is a pain due to the tight spaces and trying to unscrew the numerous bolts so I wanted to make sure he didn't change his mind, which I figured was roughly a 50/50 possibility.  Soon, indecision turned into a full blown, on the floor, legs flailing in the air crying tantrum.  There was some Quentin confusion.  He thought he was getting a new bed, which he was.  When I introduced him to the spare bedroom bed the tantrum ensued.  I was wondering what just happened.  I was mystified.  We discussed.  We planned.  He was excited.  I was excited.  And then...how did we end up here again? 

You would think I would be getting used to such events at this stage in parenting.  After getting the kid to calm down, at least to a level where he could coherently speak he pontificated that he thought he was getting the bed downstairs.  I'm sorry, excuse me?  The bed downstairs?  Well, there is only one bed downstairs.  It's the one in the master bedroom.  You know, my bed!!  So, this kid had the audacity to think he was trading in his toddler bed for a king size mommy and daddy bed.  Oh, the nerve!  Do you think this solidifies the argument our child might be a wee bit spoiled?

It was such an entertaining turn of events that I had to allow Quentin to explain this bit of entitlement to Carrie.  I thought it appropriate she heard this grandiose idea from our three year old's mouth.  And of course it was met with hysterics.  In the end would you believe we simply created space by removing the bumper, which met his personal satisfaction and simultaneously resolved the problem while allowing me a place to lay my head even if it's for only half the night?  The other half?  Well, that would be spent in the recliner of course, which is exactly where I woke up this morning.  

Sleep Deprived

Today, a picture of Lucky.  Who's a good boy?!

Can you believe our kids are 18 months old and 3 1/2 and still they refuse to sleep through the night?  It's been just brutal.  Since moving Quentin to a regular bed he rarely got out of it for the first month or two.  I don't think he really understood he could.  Well, let me tell you he has that skill officially mastered.  Mom, my eyeball hurts.  My neck hurts.  Mom, my shoulder isn't covered.  Dad, my leg hurts.  What's the light coming into my room?  What was that noise?  Is that thunder? Dad, my fingernail needs surgery.  (He's screaming from upstairs of course while we are trying to enjoy our short 90 minutes of peace we get a day).  And my personal favorite from last night at 3 am, "Dad, I don't fit in this bed anymore."  Well, maybe that last one was legitimate.  I get up there, barely awake, getting up for the 2nd time that night with Quentin and sure enough he's stuffed in there from head to toe.  Apparently he outgrew the bed without us noticing so for a short term solution we're taking down his crib bed and moving the guest bed, a queen, into his room.  His room is the smallest of the bedrooms so I think we are going to be cramming this thing in there but he will definitely have enough room to stretch out.  Guests, you get the crib.  That should suffice until we can purchase him a twin bed for the next several years. 

Gavin has been hauling around working on his balance.  He rarely crawls so he's definitely enjoying his walking.  His face is all beat up from taking headers, though.  It looks like he's a professional boxer.  He has a gash across his nose and a scrape just above his lip.  He took a bad face plant at school a few weeks ago and then this past weekend he and Quentin were outside and we have a place to store the cushions and some outdoor toys in a chest on the porch.  Quinny's arms aren't long enough to open the lid all the way so he has to prop it open, grab what he needs and then he drops the lid.  Well, his brother was underneath the lid so when the lid came crashing down it not only slammed on Gavin's little hands (it's plastic) but it scraped his nose/face on the way down reopening the same wounds.  We look like we're beating him!  (*Disclaimer - we're not).

And that little dude keeps waking up at 2-3 am, which is odd for him.  We usually bring him down to our room because he won't go back to sleep and sometimes he's just screwing around.  He'll come down at 3 am, sit up in our bed and be just giggling like this is hilarious and we're all supposed to be enjoying the moment.  No, no, no!  It's torture, little dude!  It usually results in Gavin headbutting (Bonk!, Bonk!, Bonk!) Carrie and me getting kicked in the face repeatedly for the rest of the night, which makes for an awful tomorrow.  It's clear these kids are never going to sleep and we need to just survive getting 3-4 hour stints and wake up calls at 5 am.

This weekend is my annual boy's trip to Opening day for the Brewers.  This will mark our 12th consecutive year.  It nearly always falls on Easter, which is a bummer so this year we decided to fly the whole family out, albeit after the fact so Carrie and the boys are flying out a day later than I.  In other words say a few prayers for her as she embarks on a trip, with a layover, with two rambunctious boys, solo, on a holiday weekend with a stroller, luggage and car seats.  Oh, the thrills of parenting!